Where Do We Go from Here?
by Soulstrife
Summary: Weiss is a flawless unit. Or so we've always believed. What could happen to shatter the team? This chapter: Why can't Aya concentrate? Why, after all this time, is Youji so distracting?
1. The Cracking Soul

All right. Here's my first crack at a real fanfic. Just one chapter so far –another is in the works. Special thanks to my Beta Reader and editor, HollowEyes. You're the best hon. Thanks to anyone who is reading this, I hope you like it (there will be real shounen-ai in later chapters, but this is it for now). Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Lust danced in hazy amethyst eyes as he increased the momentum of his body movements. He rammed into the man again and again and again, causing the other to release a long, intense groan.  
  
Of agony.  
  
And crumple to the floor, a broken ragdoll.  
  
Dead.  
  
That made one security squad down, and one left to go.  
  
Bed lust always played second to blood lust for Fujimya Aya. And perhaps that was partially due to never finding a partner suitable enough to meet his needs. A sardonic smirk twitched across the young man's pale face, cold humour even managing to reach his icy eyes. Not that he'd have to look far, had he really desired a good fuck. But he was interested in other things. Something more than the physical need of his body. More than lust.  
  
Hold that thought. What exactly was he thinking?  
  
No, no. He was disillusioned tonight. Love wasn't anything he wanted to feel. Not even lust for that matter. He shook his head clear of the thought and focused all his attention back on the figure at his feet.  
  
He ripped his katana from the mass of flesh and blood, gazing with impassive eyes as thick, red liquid formed rivers between the cracks of the tiled floor. Pretty.....in a sordid way. Fascinating, to his morbid mind. So long as it wasn't his blood. Sighing wearily, he glanced up expectantly at an approaching fleet of security personnel. Pathetic. It had taken them at least an entire thirty seconds to make it there.  
  
He found his thoughts wondering, whilst he slay the five guards. He slashed deeply into the first's chest, while dancing through a shower of bullets. Predictable. Suppressing a sigh, he plunged his blade into the second's torso, levering it up and down twice before prying it loose of the body and moving on to his next target. This was becoming routine, and devastatingly boring. A hideous croaking scream gurgled through the throat of another as he slammed the blade in the area between the man's neck and his throat. Damn. His accuracy was off tonight. This would have to mean two hours of extra practice for the rest of the week to make up for it. Furrowing his fine brows in concentration, he slowly tore through the man's neck, feeling the sifting sinews and muscle tissue as they parted, pliant to his double-sided katana. The man's head rolled to the floor, nearly tripping the assassin as he dodged yet another storm of bullets. He cursed beneath his breath and whirled out of a bullet's path. There was only one man shooting at him now. Chuckling under his breath he advanced towards his last standing opponent, and circled the man slowly........slowly...ever- so-slowly, drawing nearer with every circle. It amused him, to tease his prey.  
  
He took a step forward.  
  
The other stepped back.  
  
He grinned and tried it again.  
  
This time, the man stepped back and discharged a shot at him with a trembling hand.  
  
But he was tired of the game now. He leapt forth, slicing of the man's right arm. Blood sprinkled the ground, like a light rain. The limb - and the gun - fell to the floor.  
  
Aya rolled his eyes in agitation as the man fell to his knees, sobbing bitterly, begging the assassin to let him live. He had a family. He had children. He had...he had...he had...  
  
He had a death wish if was a security guard for the head honcho of a terrorist group.  
  
How many times had Aya heard these sob-stories before? Did this blubbering idiot truly think he'd actually give a shit?  
  
Aya cut him off mid sentence with a swift plunge of his katana into the other's back. The attack was so powerful, the man didn't even have the chance to choke on his own blood before dying.  
  
Another job well done. He could go home now. Bracing his foot on the limp man's back, Aya yanked his sword out - which was difficult, seeing as he had somehow lodged it in the corpse's ribcage. He grunted, agitated with the extra effort he had to exert. Still, with a final jerk, the sword was released from its fleshy sheath. Aya surveyed his handiwork proudly, scanning his end of the hallway. Nine corpses. He took them all down in record time. Five from the first four from the second...  
  
Hold on, four?  
  
Shit!  
  
He spun on his heel to see the final guard fleeing down the other end of the hall. How could he have been so careless? Idiot!  
  
He launched himself to chase after his game, but stopped mid stride as thin wires wrapped themselves around his target.  
  
Their graceful beauty was deceiving. Just like their owner's...  
  
Youji? Wasn't he supposed to be on 9th floor below? Shrugging, he turned around and calmly strode back to his own little corner of massacre. While Youji finished up for him he'd double check his job was done. A glance at the bodies littering the ground made assurance double sure, and he sheathed his weapon. The little blood rivers he had watched so intently prior to this attack had flooded into a miniature lake. It crept towards his boots, slowly. He watched it, bored, until he felt a slender on his shoulder.  
  
"Hey Aya." Youji. Aya's gaze remained focused on the stained floor. The older man sauntered over to a fallen body, and let out a loud whistle as he inspected his colleague's work. A large grin spread over his face as he stood up to look at Aya, his jade eyes sparkling with amusement. God he was beautiful...  
  
"Hey Aya! You chopped of his fire arm! Get it? Fire arm?" The brunette shook his chestnut locks and chuckled at his own joke.  
  
Aya smirked. Horrible joke as it was, it was much appreciated. Sometimes, they needed anything to distract them from all this. But the fact still stared up at them from blank eyeballs in a grim set face. They were murderers.  
  
"So... let's go now Aya..." Youji wrapped his arms around himself in a gesture which reminded Aya of a child. Cute.. "This place is giving me the creeps, and Bombay and Siberian are just waiting to blow it into tomorrow." The brunette tugged on his arm like an impatient child. Aya sighed, and followed the older assassin down the hall, half minding what Youji spoke into his communicator.  
  
"Bombay? Balinese. Mission accomplished....yeah.....yeah. He's with me. I-What? Chrissakes! Bombay I...all right. Fine. Okay. Be out in a few." He threw a glance back over his shoulder, his features taught with agitation.  
  
"They planted the bomb. Need to be out in three minutes."  
  
Aya nodded, and followed closely behind Youji, sprinting down the stairs three at a time. It was going to be tight...His mind was in a whirr as he trailed the self-proclaimed playboy down flight after flight of stairs. A nice view it was too...  
  
Shit! He had to stop that! Where was this all coming from? It was a completely unexpected, and undesired emotion. He wanted nothing to do it. But still, it lingered inside him, and it wasn't a feeling that he could just shake off. Gods, he'd tried for two months now. Yes, Youji was hot. That much he'd admitted to himself a long time ago. But sex wasn't something he needed, and there was no real reason that the man should always be on his mind. And he always was. He couldn't rule it out as a fetish or just a fascination. So then what was it?  
  
"Shit! Forty seconds." The glorious green-eyed God hissed through pearly white teeth. "We're not going to make it. What floor is this?"  
  
"Second..." Aya answered sternly. Goddamn it, Balinese was right...they didn't have enough time.  
  
The corner of Youji's mouth twitched. "All right, change of plans." The playboy took a breath. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"What?!?" Aya nearly choked on his own tongue. The blonde sighed and dashed out from the stair case to stood in front of a glass window. Aya regarded him with curiousity as the lanky man overlooked the the contents of the street below. Two parked cars. A lamp. It was virtually free of all passer-bys. No one innocent would be hurt by the explosion. Aya found himself lost in a flow of time. How could anyone be so nonchalant when facing death? Why was it, that beneath Youji's flighty, wild personality was there such an underlying sense of serenity? How come he'd never asked about it? He jumped as he felt a slender arm wrap around his waist. He let his eyes widene in indignant shock.  
  
"What do you think you're..."  
  
Without a work of explanation, Youji dragged them both forwards and crashed through the window, still latched to the redhead who had only just realized what was happening...  
  
The glass shattered around their bodies, and the noise rang in their ears. It sprinkled the pair in their descent like cutting rain in the cold night air. Aya watched as the ground below them approached faster and faster. They were falling so slowly -it made him think of when Ken and Omi would watch action movies in freeze-frame at home. But the cold, and Youji's arms around him were all too real.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut. They'd be together at the end at least. He'd always hoped that if any of them were to die, that all Weiss would fall together. They were his family, and he couldn't imagine life without them. He wondered if any of them felt the same.  
  
With his eyes closed, he failed to see Youji's look of determination, nor the silver flash of the wire as it wrapped around the arm of the street lamp. But he could feel Youji's arm still wrapped tight around his body. He felt the jerk as the wire pulled taught and forced his eyes open. He saw the relieved face of Youji above him. He could see the black night stretched out before them.  
  
He looked down to see the street gently swaying back and forth beneath their feet.  
  
"You're heavy Aya." The man smiled and released his hold on the wire. They fell five feet to the ground, and crumpled in an awkward heap, a tangled mess of leather and limbs on the cold pavement.  
  
Youji let out a small gasp as a boom filled the thick air, and flames consumed the night. Aya released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.  
  
Youji shook his head, trying to free his hair of tiny glass shards. Sighing in relief he exchanged glances with Aya,"That was a close one."  
  
"Aa."  
  
Aya could tell that the taller man was unnerved. That was uncustomary for Youji. Bloody idiot. He'd been like this for a while now. Jittery. Nervous. Afraid of something. For Youji's sake, he hoped it a brief thing. After a mission was one thing, but it such emotion plagued him during one -he could put them all at risk. Aya could not ignore apprehension if it meant the safety of his companions. Even if it was Youji.. Apprehension was the last thing a team of homicidal mercenaries needed. In a way, that's all they were, wasn't it?  
  
The redhead disentangled his body from his companion's reluctantly and stood, brushing off his trenchcoat haughtily.  
  
Youji pulled himself slowly to his feet, and tipped his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Strange for an assassin to worry about their clothes that much, ne Abbysinian?"  
  
Aya smirked. "Look who's talking Kudou."  
  
Without a word more, Aya turned on his heel, and walked in the direction of Seven, knowing Youji would follow behind. Omi and Ken would be waiting for them, probably reveling already in their post-mission highs. Such a good little team of killers. All smiles and sunshine on any good day. That wasn't something Aya could ever fathom - how those two managed to bypass the guilt that he felt in his heart.  
  
No, that wasn't quite right.  
  
Aya didn't feel guilty, precisely. The people whom they hunted were quite literally, all menaces to society. They deserved to die. What Aya felt was shame perhaps. Shame that the only way to live was by destroying lives. Well, ending them actually. Did the number of people they'd saved by killing their targets negate their sin? Could the numbers truly compare?  
  
Did it matter anymore?  
  
No. Aya was Abysinnian, and Abysinnian shouldn't be feeling anything. Not even shame. He was aloof to everything.  
  
"You feeling all right Aya?"  
  
Youji's voice startled him from his thoughts. The older man's face pulled into a slight frown, and his emerald eyes were focused on Aya's own. He could feel them boring into him, analyzing, searching for something. What was this about?  
  
He shrugged. "Aa."  
  
"Hmm." Youji looked skeptical, but didn't call it. "Just checking."  
  
They walked the rest of the way to the car in companionable silence, savoring the chill night air on their faces, and the tranquillity that settled over them after every successful mission.  
  
Just another night, for the eldest half of the White Cross. 


	2. The self-exile

Hey, big huggles to all of you guys who reviewed before, Jo, Silth, Chambers and Holloweyes. I appreciate that you took the time to write me a little note. So here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Oh, and if you would like an index of the japanese terms, drop me a line at soulstrife@hotmail.com. It's fairly simple for now, but the phrases might get a little more complex as we go along, na? Okay. Here it is….chapter two. Enjoy!  
  
===============================================================  
  
"Bye-bye Youji-kun!"  
  
Youji grinned lazily and gave a little wave to his companion as the door to Seven slammed shut.  
  
"See yah' tomorrow Bishounen! Second shift I think..."  
  
Cute kid, Omi was. He watched the genki child bounce up the stairs to catch up with the other assassins, where Aya was fumbling with the key to the side-door of the house adjoining the flower shop.  
  
He'd just make sure they got in all right. Then it was off home for him. Or the bar, or the club....  
  
He tilted sunglasses higher on his nose, and watched his teammates with tinted eyes. Ken and Omi joking around. An outraged blush burning Omi's cheeks.  
  
Yeah, a damn cute kid. But oh shit, no, not like that. There was only one person he could even think about seeing in that light right now...  
  
'Fuck, forget it Kudou.'  
  
The bar would definitely be his priority tonight.  
  
He focused back on the scene. Ken was laughing so hard, it looked like he'd piss himself any second. Even a small smile tainted Aya's usually grim lips.  
  
'He must be glad to be home and away from me.' Youji mused. Aya had been tense around him lately, in the shop and before missions, nearly having a conniption every time Youji so much as opened his mouth. When they were actually on a mission however, Aya had to hide away the imperfections and flaws in his character to become his inhuman self. Abyssinian. He couldn't show his agitation towards the lazy Balinese, even if he felt it inwardly. Or rather, he refused to.  
  
Yeah well, fuck that. It didn't matter what Aya's opinion of him was.  
  
The door was thrown open and the two younger assassins crowded in the doorframe, taking turns at shoving each other playfully into the wall and laughing -and then disappearing from sight.  
  
Aya was left alone on the doorstep, shaking his head after his house mates with a look that a mother might save for her children. A Mona Lisa smile.  
  
Youji could feel his heart strings pulled taught. That smile -it was becoming on him. That guy was nearly lovable when he smiled. All right. So he was already lovable. Still, it would make him much more approachable. Maybe then Youji would actually find the courage to have the conversation with him that he still avoided. That one thought always on the tip of his tongue during a mission, in the shop or..well, that was all that Youji saw of Aya. But when he did, it was all he had on his mind. Aya was always on his mind.  
  
All most as if Aya had heard the stray thought, he turned around and pinned Youji with a questioning look from across the street.  
  
Youji started, feeling guilty. He'd been watching too long! He needed a coverup, something to prove he wasn't half as pathetic as he looked - He lowered his head and pretended to fumble around in his pockets for a cigarette, laughing softly at himself in amusement. He was every bit as pathetic as he looked. He knew it, and Aya knew it. Reminded him on a daily basis.  
  
The door slammed shut, and Youji cringed as the pound echoed in his ears. He was always being shut out. Then again, he was the one shutting himself out this time. And why?  
  
He was afraid of being their downfall.  
  
What a fucking idiot he was. They were happier this way. No longer was Ken forced to drag his sorry ass up the stairs when he came home from another drunken exploit. No longer did Omi have to nurse him back to health, from a moment of idiocy on a mission. No longer did Aya have to berate him for his irresponsibility, for being a poor role model, for being an utter failure.  
  
He took his head between his hands.  
  
Failure.  
  
That summed everything up quite nicely now, didn't it?  
  
Slowly, but surely, he was isolating himself from the three people left in the world that he felt for. But this was for the better. God knew, Asuka had learned the hard way. Kritiker was curious with his self- exile, he knew. Manx had approached him about it late one night. She'd actually taken the time after dropping a file full of mission info off and the Koneko, and taken him to one of those crummy, always open, doughnut shops to question him about it. He'd been shocked, but it didn't really matter to him. Even a beautiful woman's curiosity held no satisfaction for him. If not women, surely, nothing could now.  
  
They'd talked for a good hour before Youji had finally given some lame excuse to escape the analyzing glint of her eyes, and her prying questions.  
  
Youji had a gut feeling that it wouldn't be long until he was asked to go solo.  
  
But would he?  
  
He took a long drag from his cigarette, savouring the familiar sensation of the toxins filling his lungs.  
  
His heart screamed at him to stay with Weiss -yet his mind chided him he was hindering their performance even now.  
  
But could he go on at all without them?  
  
Did it matter?  
  
Right now, he was only deadweight. Omi might care. Ken, probably not. Aya?  
  
Youji nearly laughed in spite of himself.  
  
Never Aya.  
  
Aya could barely bring himself to care about their other companions. All his energy was absorbed with devotion to his sister. He never spoke of her, but his silence was as strong as those rare words he did speak.  
  
Did Youji ever really imagine he could compete with her? That comatose girl...in her deathlike slumber...she was her brother's world. And she didn't even know it. Didn't even know of his devotion. Wasn't even aware of his own burning jealousy. Heck, didn't even know him.  
  
"Che Kudou, when you gonna' learn?"  
  
"Never." He answered his own question, while stubbing his cigarette out his dashboard.  
  
"But soon, no need any more."  
  
With that, he revved the engine, and sent Seven's tires squealing into the night, and banishing all thoughts of regret from his mind.  
  
  
  
=============================================================== 


	3. Another Tokyo Dawn

Amethyst eyes blinked open to the dingy light of another Tokyo dawn. Bared feet padded their way noiselessly across a cold wooden floor. Small ears detected the faint bustle and distant blasts of car horns, and a mind was not in the least surprised, even at 5AM.

Another day in the life. Another struggle to get from nine to five. 

He forced himself up and out of the false sanctuary his sparse room offered him. Into the bathroom. Shampoo. Shower. Shave. His morning routine was a science, timed to the second. Dry off. Floss teeth. Brush hair. Back to the bedroom. Pick out clothes. Dress. Make bed. Done.

He closed the door behind him softly, still wary of his slumbering companions. He made his way stealthily over the hardwood floor, and slunk down the stairs, making sure not a single board creaked under his weight. When he at last reached his destination, the cramped kitchen the three of them shared, he set about to making a pot of green tea. Another requirement of his morning ritual. This was the part he enjoyed. Every morning, wake up and wash up only to wander downstairs and sit alone for an hour. Just the way he liked it. Sitting alone in the silent morning and regarding the waking world over the rim of his teacup. There was little that he valued above this precious time to himself. Well, there was time with Aya-chan (*1) and a certain other...but as of late, he'd felt a tension when in the presence of the latter. Not that it really mattered. It was just frustration.

Frustration that while he was the master of all things in the night, he wasn't the master of his own tongue. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to his teammate, a thousand questions he wanted to ask the older man. What made him tick? What was his favourite music? Where was his dream vacation? All those stupid, trivial, insignificant questions - Aya wanted to know all their answers. Wanted to know everything about his slender companion. Yet even as insatiable as his curiosity was, he couldn't bring his mouth to form the words. Nothing. So instead, he opted for silence and staring after the gorgeous man. When the other even tried to start up a conversation, he found himself snapping back some harsh reply, without even thinking. He made him uncomfortable. Like he was suffocating. Or rammy. Or like he was clasterphobic. Probably similar to the way Ken would feel in a china shop. 

Aya smirked at the analogy and devoted it to memory, vowing to use it sometime in the future.

The light outside was getting brighter now. Aya wandered to the kitchen window, and stared out at the world. His eyes travelled an aimless path about the Tokyo skyline infront of him. How beautiful the sleeping city looked in this light. Not the harsh beauty it had in the night, when Weiss reigned. So many buildings -how many harboured survivors or families of their activities? How many had they killed?

A long yawn dragged him from his reverie, and he turned to find a ruffled Omi staring at him through sleep-clouded eyes. 

Cute. 

"Ohayou Aya-san..."(*2) (*3)

Another yawn. 

Aya fought the urge to smile. "Ken and I have first shift this morning. There's no school today. Why are you up so early?"

Omi shrugged, and helped himself to Aya's pot of green tea. "Couldn't sleep really."

"Hn." Aya allowed. From Omi's bloodshot eyes, he had rather divined that answer already. "Gave up then?"

"Aa..." (*4) Omi agreed, staring listlessly out the window. "Augh. Aya, how can you stand to get up so early?"

The redhead smirked across the table at the teen. "I don't stay up all hours on the internet."

"Urusai." (*5) Omi laughed. "I'm not up _that_ late."

"Iee." (*6) Aya agreed. "You're not."

They sat a few more moments in the dawn's light. No words were needed, for each was lost in their own private thoughts. Aya added time spent with Omi to his list of valued things. What he liked about Omi is that he never needed those useless words to fill the silence, and could always sense when he needed to be left alone. 

After ten minutes of peaceful contemplation, Omi broke the silence at last. "Na..what are you thinking about Aya?"(*7)

"Work." Was Abyssinan's automatic response. Omi rolled his blue eyes in disbelief, but didn't push for another honest answer.

Yes, Aya really did enjoy time with Omi. With the realization, he allowed himself to lighten up a little. 

"And you?"

"Nani?" (*8)Cornflower blue eyes blinked in confusion.

"What are you thinking about?"

Aya was amused -and strangely a little saddened to see Omi's surprised look. He usually stuck to answering questions and not asking them. That didn't mean he didn't care. He mentally noted that he would have to make more of an effort to open up around his teammates -or if not open himself up to them, open up his affection for them. It was always there, just something he'd kept private.

"Oh!" Omi's eyes brightened considerably, and Aya couldn't resist it this time - he smiled. He felt like a parent trying to seek a child's love. "I was just wondering what Youji is up to right now."

Aya snorted. "Up, _and_ down, knowing him. I really don't think it's that much of a mystery. I'm sure he has some cheap date lying beneath his..."

Omi made a choking noise, and Aya decided that was a good time to let his thoughts trail off.

Maybe not such a parent after all. He took another sip from his tea and smirked as he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Both he and his genki (*9) companion winced as the kitchen was flooded with artificial light. 

"Morning Ken-kun." (*10) Omi managed. 

The groggy brunette mumbled a string of incoherent words which Omi took for a greeting. Aya didn't say a word. 

The soccer player shrugged, and yanked the refrigerator door open. Aya wrinkled his nose. If he pulled any harder, he would rip the thing off its hinges.

Ken must have caught the look, because he gave an apologetic grin. It was cute enough to melt Omi, and enough to at least soften Aya. Even Ken had his moments, after all.

Forgiveness achieved, the athlete rummaged through the contents of the fridge loudly, cussing when he couldn't find what he was looking for. Aya suppressed a malicious smirk. Ken's Gatorade. The unsuspecting innocent had absolutely no idea that he had thrown it out late last night. Aya saw it as a favour. It was likely that stuff was just as harmful for you as MSG or cigarettes.

Other than alcohol and occasionally water, it was the only liquid the soccer player would drink. Even at breakfast. 

Disgusting. Then again, it wasn't as bad as Asahai (*11), the morning favourite of Weiss's other brunette. All right, so he was exaggerating. Youji drank coffee in the mornings...but Aya could recall a few instances when he'd caught him drinking when he still lived with them. Youji no baka. (*12)

"Aya? You're tea is going cold."

The redhead blinked out of his reverie. 

"Keen observation." His cold voice was harsh even to his own ears. He regretted it the instant he said it. Not enough to apologize. He was far too out of practice for that now. What would Aya-chan say? Once, long ago, there had been a time when he had said sorry too often. But now...

"Aya, he's just trying to be nice." The redhead could feel the twin lazers of Ken's stare boring into his back. 

"Aa." Another automatic response. He pushed himself up from the breakfast table and stalked stiffly to the door of the adjoined shop. He turned the knob, and the door swung open. Omi had already unlocked it. The boy didn't even have first shift. 

Aya regretted his attitude even more. Omi was sweet and thoughtful. Aya had no founding for his harshness towards the boy. 

One day, he'd make it up.

When Aya-chan was back, and the world was well once more, he could truly live again. He would say he was sorry. To everyone. He would try to be friendly. He would take time off. 

But would he ever be Ran again?

He knew the answer even now, but that was not an item to dwell upon. What was the point of asking rhetorical questions?

He mentally smirked at the self-defeating question, and made his way to the back room to start on the day's arrangements. Ken was capable of opening shop on his own. 

_________________________________________________

The ring of phone was abusive in his ears. 

He rolled over, and tried to suffocate the sound with a pillow. It almost seemed successful for a moment or two. The ringing stopped. 

Then it started again. He let it. He heard the beep of his answering machine, and his own voice perky voice. 

__

'Kudou Youji here...chances are, I've skipped down. Give me a message and I'll give you a shout back when I get in. Ja ne!'(*13)

It too grated on his nerves. 

A harsh feminine voice snapped at him, and he was out of bed within a second. 

_"Youji, I know you're there. Pick up. Now."_

Manx.

With a scowl, Youji reached for the phone. 

"Ohayou Manx-san."

"Good afternoon Youji." Her voice was surprisingly cheerful. It was fucking ironic for one critiquing society.

"It's not that late. Shut up." 

"I don't think so Youji. In fact, Kritiker has just received a piece of information that I think you might rather be interested to hear. And if you're not interested, well, you have no choice..."

"Good to know." Youji mumbled. 

"..but to participate. Kritiker has been waiting for this opportunity for a year. We think it's only fitting Weiss is involved."

Youji sighed, and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. "All right already. Just cut to the facts woman..."

From the other end Manx sniffed haughtily. "Very well. It seems that our twin group in..."

Youji dropped the phone, and made a mad dash for the other end of his apartment. 

"Youji, are you there?" Her voice queried as he scrambled about the apartment.

When he returned, the brunette already had a pad of paper and a pen in his hand.

I'm listening, Manx-san."

_______________________________________________________________________

*1)A note for some of the un-Weiss-initiated….Aya and Aya-chan are a different person. For those who are Weiss-initiated, don't roll your eyes, this actually **did** come up. Also, chan is a perosnal honorific for someone you love who is FEMALE. If you call a boy by this, he might be offended, depending on how well you know him. Even if you were close, there's a chance that he still might clock you one. =)

(*2)Ohayou means good morning.

(*3)San is an honorific attatched on to the end of someone's name who you respect. This will come up dozens of times, so don't forget ^^

(*4)Aa is yeah. 

(*5)Urusai? Like shut up, or be quiet.

(*6)Iee is an informal way of saying 'no'. In this case Aya agreeing that no, indeed Omi does not usually stay up that late.

(*7)Na means hey. 

(*8)Nani –what?

(*9)Genki –energetic, charasmatic happy outgoing cheerful. Something like that. 

(*10)Male form of 'chan'

(*11)A great Japanese Beer

(*12)Youji no baka. –Youji is an idiot. 

(*13) Ja ne. –See yah! 

Hi guys. I know, I know, kinda dull, but I think character interaction is something very important to establish. Even if they don't interact (like Aya, a lot of the time). Thanks for reading guys, you're the best! Until next time! (*hopefully next week*) Ja ne!


	4. The Turning Point

Wow, you made it this far? You have determination! Thank you so much for reading! You'll be glad to know I figured out how to properly edit (who would have known putting it in to html format would have made such a difference -_-;;) I'll be editting the previous chapters too, so they don't look so messy. That aside -just a couple shoutouts I wanna take care of: Nekojita and Tmelange, your feedback is much appreciated. Thank you. Jo, I put the colour red in the story. Other than Aya's hair too ^^ Holloweyes, props to you with putting up with those gargantuan emails full of garble which, with every chapter, you help me spit and polish. You're awesome! Right. Without further adieu…here's chapter four. 

Twenty minutes proved that Aya had been wrong. 

"HIDAKA!" The glass shook with the deep rumble of his voice.

"Coming!" 

Aya wrapped the day's second arrangement in cellophane and plunked in a hard, white, plastic bucket of cool water. Winter was fast approaching with its Church ceremonies and New Year's parties. It would mean that the shop would be getting busy soon. But that was all right with him. It seemed the busier they were in the shop, the less work they did at night. 

Or at least it always seemed that way to him.

The cold metal shutters were being raised from the glass. That meant Ken was in. 

Aya cringed when he saw the usual flock of fan girls waiting outside. This was Saturday. Didn't they have somewhere else to be? Something better to do with their time then waiting for the Koneko to open? 

The metal shutters were drawn all the way the up. Aya looked on as Ken unlocked the door. Still the flood did not come. The boy's hand hesitated at the sign which Aya read from here as 'open' but the girls doubtlessly saw as 'closed'.

Ken flipped it gingerly, and sprinted back to his position behind the counter. 

A lucky thing too, as he would have been trampled if he'd stayed in that spot any longer. Aya scanned the faces of the customers, detachedly. There were a few he recognized. 

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he made his way to the freezer, to pluck out the flowers for his next arrangement. 

"Oh no you don't!" A flustered Ken shouted from across the room, struggling to carry a load of red phlox to the display area with at least three girls clinging to each of his limbs. "There's too many of them for me to handle alone! Get out here and help me Aya!"

"Hn." 

An hour passed, and by that time, the crowd had dispersed. Aya's shoulders slumped as he set about picking up one of the dried displays the girls had knocked over in their rush to get inside. Most were Omi and Youji fangirls that morning - Aya had just switched the shifts around for the month, and the girls hadn't quite adjusted to the new schedule yet. With a snarl, he moved to the next damaged area, and rescued a crushed violet from the floor.

Ken grinned at him from behind a magazine. "Sure fooled them Aya. Wow, Omi has even more fangirls than all the rest of us put together.."

Aya chuckled at this, and stepped behind his usual position behind the cash register. "Aa."

"Not that I blame them." Ken sighed whistfully, and looked over the edge of his Sports Illustrated to gaze out the window, taking in the way the rain pelted against the windows of the cars, and a small child swinging his parents hands, splashing gaily in puddles with bright neon boots. Ken sighed once more. Tokyo…the place where civilization and nature clash and battle daily for dominance….That's what Omi said once, wasn't it? Omi……He blinked, and returned to the real world with a jolt. "Ne, that reminds me, Aya..."*

"Nani?" The redhead fixed his gaze on Ken, who was now, hiding behind his magazine. Aya arched a fine eyebrow.

"I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you."

Aya narrowed his eyes. "That depends."

"Well," Ken shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I was wondering if you could make me a bouquet. To give to…..someone."

"Why don't you do it?"

"Because you're a lot better at making arrangements than I am."

"Get Omi or Youji to do it." Aya frowned curiously as Ken flushed a deep red.

"Ah...I'd get Yotan to do it, but he's on the same shift with Omi."

Another eyebrow arch. "So?"

Ken covered his burning face with his hands. He didn't know why everyone said he was the thickheaded one. Aya could be even more dense than he was at times. 

"Come on Aya……" Ken pleaded. I'll pay you."

"Fine." The older man finally conceded with a snort.

Ken only laughed. "Prick."

"Incompetent." Aya smirked behind the cash register, and booted Ken out to water the plants.

"Shut up."

Ken grinned as he plucked the water can up from its hook in the back room. Today was going to be a great day. Yeah. 

__________________________________________________________

Brass bells tingled gaily, as the door to the Koneko swung open. Youji shivered lightly and held it for the beautiful woman behind him. The usual lazy grin was in place, as she bowed her head in silent appreciation. He shuddered again, as he stepped inside the warmth of the shop. The streets were cold for a city yet bare of winter. He closed his eyes when the subtle, sweet scent of the flowers filled his nostrils. Roses again? He opened his eyes and stole a glance around the room. He was right. The shop was unusually full of them…. Someone had tucked them expertly amongst the other flowers. Splashes of purpled orchids were complimented with white roses, red gladiolas with roses of the same. What the hell? Valentine's Day was two months off. Unless one of the kittens had something on the mind…it had to have been Aya's doing. He grinned. Tough as the man was, there had to be a weak spot somewhere within that icy exterior…no one had that much of a fondness for the most romantic flower of all while being a complete ice castle.

"Irasshaimasse!" A youthful voice greeted them as its owner bounded out from the backroom, and Youji abandoned his musings. *

Youji smiled at the teenager. "Ohayou gaki."

"Youji! Your on time, Ken would have a heart atta......Manx-san?" Omi frowned. "What are you doing here?" Cornflower eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, trying to divine an answer from the woman's facial expression. Youji's mouth twitched in a sympathetic smile, and he stole a guilty glance around the shop. It was deserted. They'd better take the chance. With a sheepish grin, he flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed'

"Just a short debreifing Ommitchi. We'll be back to watering flowers in no time." Youji cringed at the sound of his overly-bubbly voice for the second time that day. Could he be any more transparent?

"All right Manx-san, go on down and set up." The genki boy hung his apron upon the rack, and glanced back at his older companion, favouring him with a smile. 

"Na, Yotan, are you feeling all right?"

The brunette hid his surprise behind a smile and a pair of black lenses. "Hai, daijbou. Why Omi?"

The teenager gave him a mischievous grin. "You aren't wearing a crop top."

This earned a real smile. "Urusai, na." 

Omi laughed, and shouted for the missing half of the team. "Aya! Ken! Manx is here....and Youji is too...._on time!_"

"What did I tell you about shutting up?"

A chocolate coloured mop poked around the corner, shielding eyes of the same colour. "Huh?"

A deep bass echoed the brunettes befuddled thoughts. "Manx?"

"Hai Aya-kun!" Omi nodded at Ken's red-headed shadow. 

"In the middle of the day? Why?" A violet ice gaze was trained on the playboy. 

Youji bit his lip and looked down. "It's a kind of important mission..." he informed his shoes in a mumble. 

Omi frowned at this, and opened his mouth to speak, but Manx gave a holler from downstairs, signaling that it was time.

At this Ken darted down the stairs, anxious to satisfy his curiousity. Youji followed gladly, laughing at this athletic companion's antics. Sometimes, he was convinced that Ken was more a child than Omi. 

His joviality turned to melancholy as he reached the last step, and entered what the other's had dubbed as the mission room. The darkness settled over his body and mind, an old companion. The air of the room was cold, and he tugged his sweater closer to his body. Sometimes, it seemed to him as if the room was a silent tomb. Those whitewashed walls surely harboured as many dark secrets as the stone walls of Tutankhamen's pyramid. 

It was an unsettling thought.

By now, the others had made their way down the creaky steps, and were already seated on the leather furniture. 

Leather. So many of their possessions were leather...not only their couches, but their clothes. It was not a matter of style, it was a matter of convenience. Youji's lips twitched.

Asuka had never cared for leather. That was one of her many quirks that he found so endearing. One of a thousand, insignificant reasons he had been so enamoured of her. 

One of those characteristics which he missed so dearly.

He sighed and inhaled a lungful of stale air. Perhaps it was not Asuka, or even loving Asuka which he missed, but that feeling of being connected. Being so close to someone you knew the reasoning behind every task in their lives. From eating to filing to firing a gun. He'd memorized not only the process of how she carried out each, but the rational behind each. 

__

'There is a certain finesse to firing a gun, Youji.' Her rich alto voice came to him, unbidden, as he recalled one of his many memories of his lost love. He ignored the flickering images of the television infront of him. She always took precedence to real life, didn't she? 

__

'If you aim slowly, and deliberately, like this...' An image of Asuka flittered across his eyelids. Her long pale arms stretched out in front of her_, _holding the gun away from her body with both of those slender hands. She cocked the gun at him, and pinned him with her beautiful eyes. '_...it shows your man that he means something to you. Like he was hard to catch. That his death is something that you can be proud of. Whereas, if you do this...'_

Her posture slackened, and she held the gun in a loose, one-handed grip, and again, pointed it at Youji. '_This shows that its just another muscle man. That you don't really care, because you kill people like him all the time.....'_

...all the time. 

"....all the time, Manx-san. Why is this so important that you needed to interrupt our work to tell us this."

Youji blinked his green-haired lover of the past away, and focused his attention on the room before him. Omi had just finished asking a question.

Manx gave teen a cynical smile. "Let's just say that this corporation isn't of standard quality."

"Yeah, that's another thing." Ken piped up from his place beside the blonde. "You haven't told us anything about what they did wrong. You just filled us in on what you wanted us to do. What's up with that?"

"They're one of Kritiker's rivals, Ken. Not one so major as Estet, but enough to be at least a little troublesome. We want those files, and they have them, it's as simple as that. If it proves easy enough for you, we might have you take down their leader too."

Aya's gaze narrowed. "If they're that, than why did you chose us to take care of this mission? Weiss is your best. "You could have given this mission to another team."

Manx's expression softened as she looked upon Aya, and she cocked her head sweetly to the side.

Youji stiffened at the same time. Tramp. Always flirting with him. Didn't she know that Aya would never want her? She didn't have a chance, because Aya was definitely….hey, hold on….did he just think of Manx as a tramp….?

"Yes, of course you are Abysinian.." Youji noted with a smirk that he wasn't the only one to see how she said it directly to him. Ken was glowering at her back, and Omi…well, Youji imagined the look the kid had on his face was pretty close to his own right now. 

"… But there is reason for all of this. And don't be too cocky. Gesellschaft, however small still has a tough security system to get through. It's not going to be an easy mission."

"What's the reason, Manx." Aya's tone was cold. Never had Youji met someone so strong, or imposing. It was a quality which both impressed and unnerved him. Not even the Kritiker bitches could avoid Aya. And as much as he hated Manx some days, he had to give her some credit. She put up a good fight. 

"That's to be kept under wraps, Abysinian. Now...moving along...." she produced for manila folders from her purse. "Here's another reason why this mission isn't standard. We've already drafted the main procedure of this mission. Or rather missions. There is to be three -perhaps four installments of this mission. You can each read the part you are to play within your folders." She passed them around the room. "As I said, the bulk of the mission is already worked out. You can come up of the specifics -cover-up, costume, positioning, etc."

Omi stared up at her dubiously. "O....kay."

"However, what is different about these missions, is that your roles, for a great deal of the time, shall be cut off from each other. That is..." Her eyes narrowed and Youji knew the promise of a threat when he saw one. Though, he already knew the threat. He had been pre-debreifed. "...that you will tell no one of your part. Not any of the rest of Weiss. Unless we order you otherwise, which will be the case at least two times over the course of these missions."

Ken and Omi exchanged looks of confusion. Youji looked to Aya, but the man's icy glare did not leave Manx for even a second. "Why." Not a question, but a demand. 

Manx matched it with a cold smile, rivaling the other redhead's. 

"Because if one of you is to be caught, then you won't have the knowledge of what's happening to the others and...."

".....and we won't be able to tell where they are, or what they're doing." Omi finished for her.

"Right as usual, Bombay."

"Hmm." Omi's face contorted into a youthful frown. "It seems to me like you're making a lot of trouble over a minor rival."

Manx smirked. "You're treading on thin ice boy. Now, let's cut to the chase. Who's in? I would suggest that all of you volunteer. It's a four man job, and in the circumstances of these missions....I don't think you would find yourselves trusting a substitution."

Ken was openly disturbed, but he nodded his head mutely anyway. Omi, seated next to the athlete crossed his arms infront of his chest and slouched defiantly. 

"Fine, but I don't like it. Not at all."

Aya was as detached as ever. "I accept."

"Good." Manx smiled. "You four get working on the case, I have to got to see to other things now. Be good little kittens while I'm gone...."

With that, she wandered up the stairs, high heels thunking as she went. Youji watched as the pale expanse of her legs disappeared from sight, and grinned. "I sware, the woman's going to fall flat on her face one day."

There was no response. He turned to look back at the group, and was surprised to find they were all staring at _him_ now. Even Aya. He turned around to look at them, now confused.

"What? Didn't know I looked _that _good today." 

The remark was all but ignored. It was Omi who spoke first. 

"She didn't ask for your confirmation Youji."

He shrugged. "Nope."

Ken was flabbergasted. "But Youji, she has to! It's like...it's. it's a..."

"....an unwritten rule." Aya's face was inscrutable, as always. However, it was evident his curiosity was piqued. So the man was human after all...

__

Ah yes Aya. It would be if this were any normal mission. But the thing about this is….it's not. It's the turning point…

"Sure. She just probably forgot me, that's all. Not too hard to do after all." Youji laughed at Omi's adorable frown. "Come on Omittchi, it's time for shift. Can't be late for your admirers, now can we?"

His was the second pair of feet to tromp up the stairs that afternoon. 

'_if you're not interested, well, you have no choice...'_

So absorbed was he in keeping the smile one his face, that he failed to notice the bewildered doubt he left lingering behind, or the three pairs of eyes that followed his ascent up the staircase.

"That was weird." Ken quipped, once he was sure Youji was out of earshot. "Anyway, got to call the kids and tell them practice is cancelled. Shit, that little drizzle we had this morning turned into a monsoon. The field's gonna be a fuckin' mud pool. See yah guys later, ne?" 

Then he too was gone. Omi fidgeted in his place. Something felt funny. He looked at their leader, surprised to see the stone expression usually carved there and shifted ever so slightly into something….well, he didn't know.

"Aya?" He asked hesitantly.

"Go to work Omi." Aya's eyes were narrowed to amethyst slits once more, and he got up from the couch slowly. "I need to ask Manx a few questions about these…s_pecial_…missions."

Glossary

Ne also means hey, it can kinda make a question out of a statement. Irasshaimasse –Welcome! 

That's all guys! Hope you liked this chapter!


	5. Just a Flick of the Wrist

Hi all. Sorry for the lack of update. Blame the editor ne? Anyway, here's the next chapter. Thank you to my editor. Thank you to all the reviews new and old –Hannya, Sneak, Link621 , Tsunami, Nekojita, and of course, Tmelange. I adore you support. So here it is. Enjoy guys!

*****************

Damn, but he wanted his coat. 

The winter wind was chill, and bit at his face as he dodged his way though the shapeless crowd. One would think that a thousand bodies might make things a little warmer, but it wasn't working for Youji. 

Damn, but that Manx had attitude. Youji's hands shoved deep into the jacket of the armani he wore, and he glared at the cracked pavement as he walked, trying to forget her, failing miserably. No of course she hadn't asked for his acceptance of the mission. That wasn't what bothered it him. It was what she had said before-hand that pissed him off. 

_'This was made for you Youji. It will take someone smooth. Someone cunning. And someone expendable. You're perfect.'_

Bitch. He growled deep within his throat, startling a pair of children that darted past him as he walked by. Expendable. He did not know why the comment cut so deep. After all, they were assassins, and therefore all expendable, right? After all, there was a chance that any of them could die on any mission, on any goddamned day of the week. Why should he care what Manx said, if it was the truth?

Maybe because it _was_ the truth. Because it finally hit close to home.

He shuddered lightly, not entirely sure if it was the concept or the cold which made him do so. What little light had been was now fading to a sickly grey, and the crowds around him were beginning to thin. He imagined it would be around twilight, if there had been any sun to go by. He looked up to see if he might find it -but it was to no avail. The sky was a dusty grey, and all around him, buildings stretched high into the smog canvas. For the first time in a while, he felt the sensation of being trapped. The skyscrapers were mountains -mountains of steel and granite which sprouted from an asphalt earth and closed in all around him. Barring him from any hope of escape of this life. Rendering him helpless. This was the prison Kritiker had created for him. 

He would roam the streets at night, rebelling against society, and against the city which contained him -always searching for something new and shocking. Seeking out a thrill to defy that hold which Kritiker had on him. To him, each new conquest was a laugh in their face. They could keep him penned up in Tokyo for the rest of his life, but they damned well couldn't control his nightlife, no matter how they tried, or expressed their unhappiness with his doings. So afraid were they that he might become attatched. That he might bond with an 'outsider.' So why didn't they just kill him? Well, Youji figured being with Weiss had to have had something to do with it.

He shook his head with a sigh now, and pulled his grey suit jacket closer around him. What utter nonsense. No wonder Aya thought he was an idiot. _Aya..._

The wind screamed in his ears as he turned the corner. All around him, people were dashing to and fro, running for cover or to the subway to take them home. Suddenly, he found himself wondering at what had convinced him to take the subway that evening instead of driving Seven. Perhaps to help him look more his part, should any of the other suit wearers see him on his way home? Yeah, that was it. 

He came to a halt at the base of a particularly tall building. No shining neon advertisements flashed in the near dark around it. Indeed, the entire building was dark, save for a single light shinging through the window of a room near the top. It loomed up before him, the greatest of the concrete mountains on the block. Absently, Youji wondered if this was the building which stuck out from the skyline when he watched the city at twilight. 

He wondered if he was a geek because he was wondering about it. 

Youji abandoned all musings with a firm shake of his head, and took that last step, huddling in the entranceway. He reached for the handles to the glass doors. Cold on his hands. Locked. Of course. He pushed the red button above a panel of grey button and a thin, rectangular slot made for a card. 

Regulated workers. Would that change anything? 

Nah.

"Arkaki, Wataru, I presume." A deep voice boomed from the speaker beside him, causing Youji to jump. 

"Hai." Youji smiled, not so much because the owner of the voice could see it, but because he knew that a smile would always creep into one's voice when the spoke. Somehow. Asuka had told him that too. 

"My employer has sent me on his behalf so that I might....."

"Yes, yes, I know." The voice was impatient. "Do come in."

The doors clicked, and Youji tried them once again. 

Open. 

When he was all of five steps in, he was greeted by two armed personnel, and directed to the elevator. He watched warily as they came in after him. Normally, he might make a sarcastic comment about here, but again, the role he played forbid him from doing so. And regulations and expectations were apparently quite strict here. He suddenly wondered if he might be searched, but still the guards showed no signs of intending to do so. Not that they'd find his weapon if they tried. Not that he was going to use it this day. 

He grinned inwardly. 

They didn't know that he killed people like them at least one night of the week, and lived off the profits. Didn't know that right now, he could strangle them and tie them to the top of this very elevator shaft and leave them hanging. He wondered -would people ever wonder what the crunch was when they reached the top floor?

He frowned at the dark image his mind was projecting. This wasn't him. This was something Aya might think of. No, not even Aya. Mastermind, or Beserker, two of Weiss' own mortal enemies might. But not his Aya. And certainly not him. The hell was wrong with him? 

'Tch Youji, been too much on your own.' He chided himself mentally, and shoved his hands deep within his pockets. 'You could really use a lay.'

"Do not look so concerned, Arakaki-san."

Youji looked up to see the taller of the two guards talking at him. He frowned. Grunts didn't usually talk. "Excuse me?"

He was pleased when the offender had the decency to look embarrassed. Some grunt had no right to express his opinions to a businessman of his supposed stature. 

"Forgive me for speaking out of line. You looked troubled, that is all."

"I see." The brunette's voice was flat, and condescending. 

The elevator reached the top floor with a ping, and brass doors parted to make way for the company of three. Youji found himself trailing the taller man through the winding maze of corridors, hallways and closed doors, with the other behind him, close enough that he could feel breath upon his neck. He barely supresssed the urge to shudder. 

And maybe it wasn't just close contact which caused the tingling sensations in his body. Youji had always been an instinctive person, it wasn't uncommon for him to get hunches -it was one of the reasons he had been successful as a detective. That aside, the dark disconcerted him. Normally, it would have been a comfort. But this was different -there was no Aya, no Omi no Ken hiding in the dark, ready to back him up if he screwed up. Not even to come back for him if something wrong. It was all on him. 

"Almost there." The guard infront of him turned and looked at him with a strange half smile, and Youji was definitely weirded out this time. 

'The hell? Ach, shut up Youji, your just freaked out, never been on your own, that's all it is.'

He didn't have time to dwell on it as they stopped before the last closed door at the end of a long hallway. 

"Takahashi-sama?" One of his escorts was knocking on the door. "Arakaki-san has arrived."

"Good." Came the gravelly, deep rumble of a bass from the other side. "Send him in."

Youji's heart was throbbing painfully in his chest, but he did not let slip his professional mask. To keep a poker face meant everything. The door was opened for him and he entered, hardly even startling when the door was closed behind him. Wait...was that the click of a lock? No, it had to be his imagination. He bowed low, the gesture automatic to him -and necessary for his part. As he did so he took in his surroundings. The room was awash with dim light -that was the first thing he noticed. That meant it had to be the one he had seen from the ground. Which meant he was a long way up. Which he didn't like. Too far from any exits. Though Manx had told him murder would be completely unnecessary in this particular case. The second thing, that it was sparse for an executive's office. Where there normally may have been certificates or expensive pieces of modern art hanging off the walls, there was naught but one picture -but Youji could not prolong his bow enough to catch what it was of. He straightened and smiled up at the back presented to him. 

"Takahashi-sama, it is a pleasure."

"The pleasure, Arakaki-san, is all mine." The man still did not turn from his place at the window."Do sit down." 

Youji obliged wordlessly, pulling a soft leather chair infront of the deep mahogany of the desk.

"I do apologize for this strange hour at which I requested your coming, and hope I haven't interrupted any dinner arrangements you may have had. But you must understand, security is of optimum priority."

Youji chuckled, as he supposed, one should in this situation. "No, not at all, Takahashi-sama. It is to be expected, of one belonging to such a....respectable company." 

"We understand each other then. I am glad. I have no desire to deal with foolishness, _Kudou Youji_. But you are a smart man. And I like that."

Youji's eyes widened at the use of his real name. "T-takahashi-sama?"

The man gave him a dark smile and rose from his desk. "I would rather that you called me Persia?"

"Pers...." Youji's mouth worked open and closed in silence, as he digested the piece of information. What the hell? Persia? The one whom they never saw in person, that silent God which dictated their lives from a distance. Persia. Their own personal Satan. Standing right infront of him. But why? What was this? What the fuck was going on? Gaining a little of his nerve back, he expressed this latter sentiment aloud. 

The man who he knew now to be as Persia laughed, maybe at his lack of formality, or at his coloured language. 

"Do you really not know? Did Manx not inform you?"

"Apparently not. Inform me of what?" Youji clenched a fist into the arm of the chair. 

The man sighed. "You, are fluent in English, are you not?"

Youji's gaze strayed far beyond the realm of the glass paned window and into the city. His eyes stopped at the flashing neon lights of the club district just blocks away from the business portion of town. He always wondered if that was a coincidence or no...

"Yes." He answered slowly, eyeing Perisa's suited back, being in his company –it was unnerving. The man who owned him. All of them. How easy would it be just to kill him? He had his watch. How difficult would it be just to press that button, to slit his throat and....no he'd never make it out alive. And knowing Kritker's lust for vengance, the rest of his team might be tracked down and forced to pay. It would be futile. He sighed and folded his hands in his lap. Yet still…all it would take is one flick of the ….. 

"Why?"

"Manx was right, you are perfect." 

"For what?" Youji rose to his feet in anger. "For what goddamn it? Would someone fill me in here? What am I perfect for?"

"Calm yourself Youji." Persia intoned. "Everything will make itself clear in due time Balinese. Now sit down." 

Silently Youji obeyed, but bristled inwardly, disliking the familiar stance Persia took by calling him by his first name.

"Now, you no doubt have some knowledge of the missions Weiss is acting on now. How we intend for you to gain those files from Gesellschaft?"

Youji studied the floral patterns in the thick, black carpet. "Yeah." 

"Good. And I assume you understood your major role in these missions as well?"

"Type them up and return the original copies the next night with Bombay, so no one ever realizes that a thing happened. I figured it was too risky to photocopy the files, and any scanner of ours...." He laughed. "Well, you guys gave us a crap one, so there's no way it would pick up very clearly."

The brunette watched the back of Perisa's head bob. "Yes. And I'm sure you were curious as to why, you were to type them and not the computers specialist himself."

"Yeah...." Youji agreed. "Kind of." 

Indeed he had wondered. It had made little sense to him at all in fact. It was rare that he used computers himself, other than email, and as a result, his typing skills were poor. It only made logical sense that this task should be passed to Omi, the faster of the two. Though, given, he had not dwelled long upon that fact.

"The information which is contained within those files -it is for you Balinese."

"Nani?"* Youji blinked Naze...?"*

"Ah Balinese. You were told Gessellschaft is one of our rivals. But the problem within is that Gessellschaft is split into two divisions -one in America, and one here."

"All right...." 

"We wish to...eradicate them. But with two solid branches..well....it's just too easy for them to re-establish power once more. To remove the threat of Gessellschaft in Japan, we must do the same in the United States."

"Ho?" Youji arched an eyebrow. "And that relates to me...how?" 

"....Balinese, as one of our most elite assassins and the only in Weiss completely fluent in English...please, read the contents of the envelope on the table before you."

He picked up the yellow envelope, noting the strange way that it felt like lead in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the flap, and extracted the vital paper within. He read it. Slowly. Then he looked up again. Blinked. Uncertainty coiled like a snake around his heart, and his head bent again. He went through the contents the paper once more. 

"NAAAANI?" Youji was on his feet again, eyes wide with both anger and surprise. "What do you guys think your trying to prove?!?"

"You're job is to be our spy." Youji quivered with supressed anger, but even so, could not help but note how the suit Persia wore tightened across the back of his shoulder blades. He was tense. But there was no way Youji could use that to his advantage. Because Persia…..

"…Find their weaknesses as well as their strengths. Gesselschaft must be brought to their knees -and you, you will provide the means of how."

And finally, it all sunk in. All the pieces connected. Weiss would steal files from the Japanese Gesselschaft, which would contain information about the American one. Which...no....wait. 

"But, couldn't we just find their weak and strong points through those files Persia? And one thing still has me confused -what the hell has Gesselschaft done wrong? Why are you hell-bent on destroying them?"

Persia huffed. "I doubt that there will be data of that sort. Kritiker is no foolish enough to keep accessible files of that kind. I imagine the data you will extract will find you the location of their headquarters....their leaders, everything the stand for. Which you shall use when go undercover as a hopeful agent." Youji felt, rather than saw the dark smile which accompanied the statement, and he focused a glare on his superior. 

__

'Why...should I do this for you? Why...do you own my life?'

"You know, Balinese..." Persia continued. "with your American looks, I wonder, if you might get away with little questioning at all. Manx read me your profile, and I imagine your English accent is....perfect. I think you will seem quite authentic. I head that it's in your blood..." That low voice, usually so slow and monotonous held a note of something different now. Of mockery. Was that it?

Youji gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the statement. "You never answered my other question."

"To answer your other question? We are not sure of the nature of the relationship between Gesselschaft and the underground crime rings of America. Here, they are not connected. There is also some talk of inside trading within the Stock Markets."

"I see." The brunette replied after a long moment of silence. Then he stood. "What if I chose not to accept the mission Persia?" He said after a moment's hesitation. His eyes darted twice across the room before settling on the back of the man's head. "What then?"

For the first time that evening, Kritiker's leading man looked away from the window. Not enough that Youji could see his face, but the movement was visible. Strange...

"If you do not accept...or should anything happen so that you may not complete this mission..." the voice reminded him of liquid honey -yet strangely marred by the rasping of sand paper. Youji gave in to a shudder. "...then Weiss will pay for your foolishness with _their_ lives."

Youji's verdant eyes widened and narrowed within the span of a second. Words tumbled from his mouth, heedless of whether his mind thought them wise, or no.

"That's not fair...."

_Ken and Omi, opening their Christmas presents. Omi chiding the brunette for not saving the glittering wrappings. Their muffled laughter mixing in the morning with the ripping and shredding of paper. Both of them startling as the doorbell rings._

Ken's unhappy sigh, as Omi clears away the glittering paper and shoves it beneath the tree. "No….not a mission today…"

"You.....you shouldn't have this hold on us."

_Aya, sweating and amethyst eyes wild and wide as he awoke from a nightmare in Youji's bed that first night of his joining. Pale fingers caressing the gold earing they came to learn the meaning of..._

"Aya...you were calling that name out in your sleep. Is that your name?"

_The look of bewildered confusion slowly hardening into stone. _

"Aa. Call me....Aya. Aya..."

"On...... me."

_"Youji...stop!" Her pained cry as those beautiful hands flew to her throat. The sharp gasp of her last breath..the soft gurgle....the sickening way that she fell to the ground, the thud of her head against the pavement enough to make her bleed even then...beautiful body spawled awkwardly in a pool of blood with the brand of his wire around her elegant neck.......her eyes still open...._

Youji burried his head in hands and squeezed his own eyes shut, trying to banish the image away. 

"Accept or reject, Kudou." Persia's voice snapped him back to reality.. "Save me your impertinence and make the decision. Neither choice will save you from punishment for your arrogance. I am disappointed. I thought you to be a smart man. Now, which is it?"

"What do you think?" Youji cried in anger. "I have no choice. I accept your goddamned mission. Just leave them alone , you ass!"

"As you wish." Persia moved to the desk, hiding his face with one hand. With the other he rang for the grunts, who arrived in seconds to take Youji away. Only this time, there were five -not two. When the door was thrown open he tried to dart out past them, but with not avail -a leg dashed out to trip him to that padded black carpet. He gasped when a well placed kick reached home in his abdomen. He choked on his breath. 

"But I can not say the same for you. We shall meet again, you and I, perhaps when you are of better temperament. Oh and one more thing _Balinese_. Not a word of this shall be spoken to your team. They would try to talk you out of it. And you don't want them to look like you will when this night is over, do you?"

The door slammed shut and Youji was altogether too aware of the now dark hallway. Yet, it was not so dark that he missed the malicious glint in the eyes surrounding them. 

"Arakaki-san, you should have been more careful."

He was yanked up by the hair, and he felt the tip of a knife skim along his cheek. He shuddered lightly. 

_Damn you Manx. _His smile was sardonic. _This suit was really expensive. _

*Nani, means what. 

*Naze means why

Also, in case you didn't already know, sama is an honourific used to show GREAT respect. 


	6. Greyscale

Nuah. Sorry for the lack of updates minna. My editor fell off the face of the earth. I'm very frightened. Thanks to all you who reviewed that short I did a while back. I love you * blows kisses*  
  
Getting to business.  
  
Shaynie- Ahhh..you have discovered my weakness. My inherent need for creating bad guys. ^ ^ I don't know, I just felt like making him evil. Well honestly, it just worked for the plot I had in mind. But I'm glad you asked, I like to hear questions. As for the whole branching off thing...well, you'll just have to keep reading to see =P  
  
Thank you to Jo, Nekojita and Tmelange for being the wonderful people that you are, and always reviewing my work. I always look forward to your reviews, you always keep me going. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Really, there's not a lot more I can say about it  
  
Hollow -aw, what the heck, I love you anyway. Just talk to me babe! Andariel -thanks so much for the nice review. Yes, I'm certainly continuing this. Will you keep reviewing?  
  
So anyway, here it is folks. The 6th chapter. Enjoy. ^ ^  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Brrrrr Aya, how can you stand to sit in here?" Man in question lowered his newspaper just enough so that the teenager could see his arched eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"  
  
The blonde boy grinned. "Nah, just thought you might want some company, that's all. And since you're here, in the living room, instead of holing yourself up in your room, I assumed you wouldn't get mad." The boy tottered off into the adjoined room, and moments later, Aya heard the clack of their old heater.  
  
"Hn." A scowl would hardly be worth the effort. Instead, he sunk back into the cushions of the velvet armchair. There was no use in trying to read the paper. His mind was somewhere else. He ran his fingers over the soft material of the chair, wondering detachedly why it felt prickly when he went against its natural flow.  
  
It was a cold night. The rain had let up two hours ago only to start up again within the half-hour. Now it came down in buckets, drenching all those who ventured out into the streets. Ah yes, the attractive weather patterns of Tokyo, tourist capital of Japan. The capital of Japan. And what did those gaijin fools see in it anyway?  
  
"Cocoa, Aya?" His eyes blinked at a mug proffered directly in front of his face. With a sigh, the teen set it down on the coffee-table, before curling up on the coach to read a book. Aya would have smiled, and he still had the heart. But he didn't. He was an assassin. So instead he looked away, out the window.  
  
Grey sky, grey buildings, grey rain. Tokyo was a city stuck in greyscale, its people dead and unfeeling, moving through the rain like robots, their faces blank and lifeless.  
  
Aya-chan had always held some fondness for the rain. He could recall taking walks with her to the temple in wet weather. She had sung for him, and he had laughed as they made their way down the path, clinging together huddled beneath her 'hello-kitty' umbrella. He couldn't imagine how ridiculous they must have looked -in their finest kimonos, giggling beneath the pink plastic shelter that was probably small for even one of them alone.  
  
"Niiiichan?" "What is it Aya?" "Don't you just love the rain!" "No. Not really." "Hmph....why not?" "Saa. It's ...wet. Feels lonely, I suppose." "But look how it washes all the dirt and the grime away! Everything starts all over again, clean and fresh and full of life..."  
  
Rain in a world without Aya-chan was not full of life. It was grey, and everything else around him turned grey because of her absence.  
  
"Did you ever catch up with Manx?" Omi's soft unchanged alto startled him from his memories.  
  
"That bitch." He snarled without thinking. Omi giggled.  
  
"An answer like that doesn't tell me much Aya-kun!" Omi smiled slyly at him.  
  
"Answer like what? Bitch?" Ken's boisterous voice caused both of them to jump. The blonde grinned up at the newcomer.  
  
"I'm trying to find out of Aya ever caught up with Manx and dragged a couple answers out of her."  
  
"Oh." The soccer player planted himself on the couch -just bare inches away from Omi. "That." His gaze switched to Aya. "So did you?"  
  
He shook his head. "No."  
  
"Ah. Fuck."  
  
Fuck indeed. That echoed Aya's own thoughts. He had questions, and he wanted them answered. Right away. But no, Kritiker felt like playing games with them. As they always did. Now it was always no questions asked, take it or leave it with Kritker. Weiss bowed to their every wish. Always accepting, never really having the choice not to. They were being used. Like a child prostitute to the pimps they so often killed. Forced to do things they never would, had their lives not been taken from them. Some people deserved death, certainly all the ones Weiss targeted did. But it did not mean that they were the ones who wished to bring it. Besides. Aya still wondered if being a banker would pay close to the same. Without the threats to his life. Without the deleted records and long forgotten pasts. But.....with his sister. Or.....could Weiss ever make-up for his lost family? No. He couldn't have a family. He was an assassin. ....so why was it that he kept forgetting?  
  
"......don't swear Ken-ken."  
  
"Aya just did! And hey! Don't you Kenken me you brat."  
  
"Stop me."  
  
"I just might have to....."  
  
By now the warmth resonating from the heater in the other room was finally making some difference. Aya lidded his eyes, and basked in the heat. It was pleasant. Something he should not indulge in. Warmth had no place in his life. He opened his eyes and stared briefly at the swirling stucco masses on the ceiling. Maybe it wasn't too late to pay Aya-chan a visit.... The hospital always felt cold to him.  
  
Aya jerked suddenly with the harsh noise of their doorbell assaulted his ears. He looked to Omi and Ken, who already were alert. A surprised and cautious silence fell over the room.  
  
"At our back door? Who the hell could that be at this time of night?" Ken's whisper was aimed at him.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Should I get it?" Omi cocked his head to the side to regard Aya carefully. At his nod, the boy stood and shuffled to the door. "There's no sense in avoiding them, who ever it is. It might be Manx or Birman."  
  
"Don't they usually use the front?"  
  
"Usually. Not always."  
  
"You think we're being too paranoid?" Ken asked.  
  
Aya shrugged his shoulders. "One can never be too careful."  
  
Ken got up to follow Omi to the door, but Aya gave a discreet shake of the head. If their visitors weren't friendly, it would not be wise to arise suspicions from the get-go. Having three able bodied young men greeting the door would certainly seem strange to him. He bit into his lip. His mind felt like it was on autopilot. Whizzing over a hundred different things without ever really stopping to give any thought its full concentration. His body strangely tense. Ready to spring at any moment. Or to pop. All this over the simple matter of a 'tringing' doorbell. There once was a time where he hadn't had to worry about answering a door. There had once been a time when he had been so sheltered that he wouldn't have dreamt there would be a time that he would have to worry about it. He realized with a twinge that he had never appreciated that before. Not that it mattered. Abyssinian had no time to appreciate things in past or present. It was Abyssinian now that pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to regain his focus as Aya was shoved to the background. Whom could they expect? Schwarz? There hadn't been any trouble from the Black for a good two months now. Perhaps it would make sense then. Who else? None came to mind. Across the room, Siberian lay sprawled over the couch. It may have looked like a relaxed position to anyone else. But Aya could see that those hands twitched. Ready for something. For anything. To kill? In their own home? What were they becoming?  
  
Aya sucked in his breath as he heard the latch of the door being undone. Ken did the same.  
  
A sharp gasp from the other side of the wall had both men on the feet and at the door at an instant. Ken automatically leapt for Omi, in a surge of natural protectiveness. Aya was on his feet, and next to the pair in a second. But it was needless.  
  
"Youji-kun!"  
  
Omi's voice broke on a high note. A slender hand flew to his mouth.  
  
"Hey guys..." A familiar tenor drawl, but small and thin. "Howzit goin'?"  
  
Aya's breath caught in his throat.  
  
Youji.  
  
What happened?  
  
A line of mottled purple ran up the brunette's jaw, and blood trickled from a split lip. He wore an expensive suit -stained silt, and ripped in the sleeves and torn at the knees. The tall man leaned heavily on the doorframe, shuddering lightly. Blood mingled with the rainwater, and it fell in opaque pink drops to the porch. Suddenly, he lurched forwards, and Aya's arms were around him without thought.  
  
"Couldn't take Seven, took Subway..." He could feel Youji's lips mumbling into his chest. And despite all that raged on around him, the world seemed to freeze for Aya, a strange tickling sensation seemed to creep up his spine and slither its way down to his heart. Youji was close. Too close. Not close enough. Hurt....Youji was hurt...  
  
"Stopped closer to your guys' pad. Wondered if I could borrow your first aid kit...."  
  
"Youji!" Ken finally gasped out. "What the hell happened? Are you drunk?"  
  
The brunette opened his mouth, but Aya had already answered for him. "He's not. He's completely and utterly sober." Of this, he was certain. There was no bitter scent to the man's breath.  
  
"Aa...." Youji rasped out, and flashed his two younger teammates a crooked grin -one that did not reach to his eyes. "Though I wish it was otherwise. Shiiiit."  
  
Aya pressed the slim body closer to his own when he felt it begin to tremor. Youji smelt of rain and blood. Not alcohol and sex. Why...and why not? He could think of no logical answer to his question. But that was off secondary importance at the moment.  
  
"Omi, go prepare something to treat him." His voice was cold and strong, but inside he felt like he was crumbling. Abyssinian...who was always strong. He felt deserted. "Ken, go with him. I'll get Youji upstairs to the bathroom."  
  
With two nods, the younger half of Weiss bounded away. In his arms, Youji laughed weakly. "Shit, it's not like I'm dying or nothin' Aya. Don't sound so serious."  
  
"Shut up." Aya growled, and hoisted the entirety of Youji's weight into his arms, and began the trek to the upstairs bathroom.  
  
"I can walk too, you idiot." Youji mumbled into the crook of his neck. Aya tensed at the sensation it caused, and nearly stumbled. "See...yah' can't hold me." Youji's voice was soft and scratchy, but it still retained its dignity. "So why doncha' just...." "I said shut up Youji." Regaining his balance, Aya shifted the taller man in his arms and conquered the last of the creaking stairs.  
  
When they at last reached their destination, Aya eased his teammate into a sitting position on the floor. How strange the older man looked, slender and bleeding all over the pristine white bathroom tile. It was a sight they had oft seen before, and a position all of them had been in. But this time it felt different. This time....they hadn't been there.  
  
"What happened?" Aya bit out, more harshly than he had intended.  
  
"Huuuuh?" Youji blinked up at him.  
  
"This. Who did this to you?" His gaze held steady on Youji's glazed emerald eyes, but it had no avail. Why did those green eyes seem so distant?  
  
"Tcccch." Youji's head slumped to the side. "Can't say."  
  
"What do you mean, you can't say?" Aya's hands were already at work, pulling off the suit coat as delicately as deftly as he could. A hiss from Youji warned him that he was not being delicate enough. He frowned at the disheveled playboy, who no longer even tried to smile at him. "Ach, careful...one of em' had a knife..." "One of whom Youji?" The suit jacket came free, and he looked at its label quizzically. An armani.... Youji didn't wear armanis voluntarily. And after dishing out the money for the suit, he wouldn't just have let it get ruined in a street fight. Youji couldn't have walked into a brawl just like that. Could he have?  
  
"...not tellin'." Youji slumped against the porcelain side of the bathtub, laughing fitfully when he clunked his head on its hard surface. "Owwww."  
  
"Youji..."  
  
"...yah?" The brunette's hair spilled into the bathtub, matted with rain, sweat and his own gooey life source. Aya's attention was focused elsewhere.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Coz!" Youji drawled slowly. The brunette's eyes rolled to the top of his head, and Aya shook him violently, forgetting those injuries.  
  
"Stop that, right now!"  
  
"Nnnn. All right Aya, if you say so."  
  
There was a tentative knock at the door, but it burst open just short seconds afterwards anyway. Ken shoved his way inside, and Omi followed behind him, subdued.  
  
"What the hell happened Youji?" The team's younger brunette growled.  
  
"He won't say."  
  
Ken looked at Aya in surprise. "What? Why not?"  
  
Aya shrugged.  
  
"Honestly Ken-kun, there's more important things to do! Now the bathroom is crowded already, so unless your going to help get out!" Omi's eyes flashed with worry, and he kneeled down on the ground beside Youji.  
  
"All right. But he ain't gonna get away that easy..." Ken slunk out the door.  
  
Omi sighed, and extracted a roll of bandages and solvent from his medical kit. He set them down carefully on the bathroom floor. "You too, Aya."  
  
"I'll help."  
  
Omi looked at him in confusion. "What, are you sure Aya? Whoever did this to Youji hurt him a lot, but it isn't life threatening. It's not too big a job for me to finish on my own."  
  
"I'll help."  
  
The two of them set to work quickly, laying aside the rest of Youji's clothes, and tending to his wounds -the extent of which surprised even the lanky playboy himself. Scattered around his body were light cuts, and dark mottling bruises. The worst injury he had sustained was a gigantic lump to the back of his head. It was exactly as both Omi and Youji had said. Nothing life threatening. But serious enough that Aya was perturbed. The blows were all over his body, it was true -but, upon turning him over, they had found Youji had sustained the most injuries on his back.  
  
Had he been jumped from behind? If so, why? That would mean either that it hadn't been Youji to pick the fight, or that someone else had had the upper hand. The former thought concerned Aya more than any other. But if that wasn't so, what then? Some gang jumped him for his money? Maybe. But then, why would Youji be so reluctant to tell them, his team? Pride?.....Could be, but for some reason, Aya doubted that that was the reason for the brawl at all. Youji could surely take on a gang of steet thugs. So, maybe his attackers were trained? That seemed more reasonable -often, it seemed that the hits had been concentrated in the same area -something impossible if Youji had been fighting on his feet. To get Youji *off* his feet would take a fair bit of work, and Aya was sure that it was beyond the work of street kids to do. But then....?  
  
When at last all the work had been done, and Youji lay struggling to keep awake, Aya bid Omi to return to bed, with a quick word of thanks. The blond gave him a tired smile. "You'll take care of him then?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Then thank you Aya." Omi rubbed at his eyes. "See you in the morning." A quick rinse of his hands, and the teen was off.  
  
They were alone again.  
  
Aya stooped over, and scooped his slender teammate into his arms once more -all together too aware of the absence of his shirt.  
  
"Ari..gatou, Aya." Youji's soft tenor sighed, and his body squirmed against Aya's. "...can go home now..."  
  
Aya looked at him incredulously.  
  
"Put me down...I'll walk. Not so far."  
  
Aya refused to even respond to the statement. He traveled the length of the hallway with the warm weight of his older teammate against his own.  
  
"A-ya...." Youji's wiry arms wrapped around his neck, perhaps without even a thought from their master. He was afraid of being dropped. "lemme go..."  
  
"No, Youji." Aya growled, and kicked the door to his room open. He made his way to the bed, where he deposited the exhausted man. "You're staying here tonight. And you will tell me who did this to you, and why."  
  
Aya frowned as something crept into his team-mates eyes then....that soft hair flung about his face, as Youji shook his head wildly and tried to get up. "No!" His voice was clear now, and he seemed more awake. "No, no and no!"  
  
Aya pushed him down again easily, and this time, pulled the grey covers up over his teammate's chin. Something was not right. No, something was drastically wrong. But, he could tell already, that, whatever had happened, he would not be able to wheedle the answer from the brunette.  
  
"Sleep then."  
  
"....don't hafta..do this Aya."  
  
Aya let his gaze wander over that ghostlike face. Youji's soft pink lips trembled, perhaps with cold...his eyelashes fluttered open and closed, battling a loosing war against sleep. That jaw was marred purple, green and yellow. Yet...even still, Youji was....Youji was.....  
  
"Consider it reimbursement." He responded, without thinking.  
  
"H-ho Aya?" Youji smiled faintly. "You remember that? Seems like ages ago now..."  
  
"Youji..no baka." Aya lidded his eyes. Of course he remembered. It was his first week with Weiss -and already he'd gotten in some argument with Siberian. The cause of that bout was long forgotten and forgiven...but the aftermath... Never. The way that Youji had picked him up -so delicately, as if he were afraid that he might break. Somehow, he had managed to drag his barely conscious self to his own room.  
  
The room Youji had moved out of months ago.  
  
Aya had lay tossing and turning all night in that bed -Youji's bed -while the man himself sat quietly by his side until it had all passed. Then, he had been named. And when Youji finally drifted to sleep, slumped awkwardly in that chair, Aya had mused over that name, and his new teammate until the sun came up, and his second real day in the shop had started.  
  
"Yeah." Youji agreed with him at length, his voice far away, and small. "I know." With that, the brunette shifted painfully to the side, and buried himself in the soft covers.  
  
"Youji..." Aya began, but the man in question was already gone, drifting on the ocean of sleep. He had to have been very tired. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward, closer to the bed. His fingers stroked those chestnut tresses softly.  
  
The hell did he think he was doing? Youji was unconscious. Youji was off limits. Youji was straight. Youji was an idiot. What the hell was he doing? Ach, for fuck's sake, Aya didn't care.  
  
The rebellious fingers slid over that marred face, contorted with pain, even in sleep. Maybe...his only chance. Youji's skin was silky smooth, even in this condition. Aya started guiltily, and checked to make sure the door was locked. Aya, what do you think you're.... Cautiously, he pulled the covers back, and slipped in bed beside the older man. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted the slender frame of the assassin, so he could wrap his arms around him. Youji did not even so much as mumble in his sleep. Tenderly, Aya pulled the cover back up over Youji's shoulder. He was warmer now, and he could feel the heat radiating from his flesh. He turned his head to face the slumbering figure.  
  
"Youji.....what the hell happened?" He whispered to the man curled across from him in his own grey comforters. He then recalled the light which had came to the taller assassin's eyes when he asked the question to his face.  
  
"...and why the hell are you....scared?"  
  
He was acutely aware of every place they touched -clothes or none. The slightest feeling of sadness touched him -he was now where he had wanted to be, in bed alongside a complacent Youji. Yet the other man would never know. And in his heart, there was the sinking feeling, that there would never be such a moment again. What was this feeling? Why did it make him feel so empty...and yet full at the same time. Full of something...and ready to burst. Sighing, he pressed himself closer to the warming body and vowed to stay awake - holding to every sweet and fleeting second dear in his mind for years to come.  
  
  
  
Love, hate? Tell me! Soulstrife@hotmail.com 


	7. Unrelenting

(forward)

Sorry I've been away so long. 

To Jo - Thank you. How are you doing? My computer is nearly dead…what have you been up to? 

To Yochan – heh. Always a good thing to hear. ^^

To Balinese –eh….sorry you had to wait so long for this one. 

Nekojita –yes…..hope. Perceptive. 

Tmelange - Wow. Thank you. Thank you very much. Mon ami…? Methinks you are a frenchie ;) Cool!

Holloweyes - You're alive! (I….think…?)

Rav'n - Ah! You gave me a fright. I asked my Japanese teacher about it. But he said that genki was okay. It also means healthy, energetic cheerful. No real Enlgish equivalent. But really, thanks for the concern. Always good to crackdown when you think a language is being bastardized ;)

And to to Kurai-chan, whom actually emailed me about continuing this story. Thank you ever so much. This chapter is for you. You really encouaged me when I hit a block. There are no words I can say but….Arigatou gozaimashita! 

Sorry guys, but this is just me, myself and I. So if there is glaring grammar errors and awful gaps…..it's all me! 

And now that we have all that out of the way…….. the chapter with the revolving doors….

Enjoy =)

* * *

  


Aya's eyes fluttered open. Something warm and gentle ghosted across his face. He turned his head, and startled to see a sleeping Youji next to him. His heart beat with wild excitement -until he remembered the real events of yesternight.

Damn. But what the hell else should have he expected?

He glared at the sickly rays of sun that trickled over his skin, wishing that it had been slender fingers that had woken him instead. With lethargic movements, he disentangled himself from Youji's long limbs and managed to move himself from the bed. The older man made a muffled sound of protest, and Aya's eyes widened. 

He didn't know...did he?

An eternity passed. But it seemed that it was just the complaint born of the loss of warmth -Youji was still asleep. With a sigh of relief, Aya rolled out of bed. He let his eyes roam over the scene before him. 

Youji, in his bed. Grey comforters twisted around that battered, half-naked body. Chestnut hair spilled out over his pillows. 

What had he been thinking? What if Youji had woken up before him? What would have he done then? What if....

He stole a guilty glance at the older assassin. 

What if Youji had woken up in the middle of the night? What if he already knew?

At that thought, Aya bolted, forgoing his usual morning routine in favour of getting the hell out of that room. 

'This is stupid.' He reprimanded himself as he fled to the safety of the kitchen. 'It's not like he'd have any clue. There's no reason you need to run from your own room. He's the stranger there.'

Still, the kitchen was where he found himself standing. He blinked at the black and white linoleum tiles, gleaming with the rays of the morning sun's first pale light -the only light to fill the house. What was today? Sunday? Yes. The shop would not open today. Which meant he would be able to think on the mission. Or wheedle something out of Youji. Or both. 

He crossed the cold kitchen floor in bared feet, wishing that he had thought to grab his household slippers, like any proper Japanese man should.

He was not proper.

Not that it really mattered. Even if the thought had crossed his mind, he probably would have left them in that mad dash anyway. With a defeated sigh, he opened the fridge, and fumbled through its contents, trying to entertain his mind with breakfast, rather than the dilemma in his bed. Eggs....milk.....lemons......His mouth tugged upwards with a wicked smile in spite of himself. _Gatorade...? _Well, he'd just have to get rid of that. 

"Aya-kun?"

The redhead jumped at the soft alto voice, dropping the plastic bottle to the ground. 

"You're up later than usual." The bottle rolled across the floor. Its liquid contents -coloured a shade of orange he was sure couldn't be found in nature -sloshed back and forth until and stopped at Omi's feet. The boy 

looked at it quizzically. "What are you doing with Ken's Gatorade?"

Aya scooped the bottle from the floor and shoved it in the back of the fridge. "Nothing.." Damn. So close. 

"Oh." Omi went for the tea cabinet. "All right then. Green?"

Aya shrugged, and stared into the opened cupboards. A lone tin of Maxwell's stood on the top shelf, one item that Youji had left behind for early mornings in the shop. 

Aya reached past Omi to grab the tin. He opened the lid and peered inside. 

Could coffee go bad? Didn't look like it. Without pausing to think why, he dumped four heaping spoonfuls of the stuff into their coffee-machine, and switched the thing on. 

"Looks like rain again." Omi commented, still rummaging through the cupboards for a packet of green tea. 

Aya's eyes traveled beyond the realms of the household, through the window and out into the bleary world. There was light, but it was no stronger than it had been when he awoke. 

_Still grey...._

"How is Youji-kun doing?" Omi pulled out the tiny pouch with a quiet chuckle of triumph. The silence of the kitchen was interrupted with the sound of rushing water. Omi filled the kettle, and placed it on the stove to boil. 

"I don't know. He's still asleep." 

"That's great Aya! Where'd you put him?"

Aya stared hard at the boy, just willing him to question him. "My room." He said at length. And to his surprise, Omi did not look _in the least_ surprised. 

"Oh." Omi nodded. "I'm glad. Did you watch him, Aya?"

_Yes, I watched him. All night. Tossing and turning. In my arms. In my arms for the first -and last - time. _

"Yes." 

"Did he get some rest?"

He was exhausted. Tired and worn out beyond all belief. His eyes fell shut so soon.....those eyes. Something's happening. I can feel it. Something....

"Yes, Omi. He did rest." They wandered idly to the living room, and plopped down on the couches, waiting to hear the shrill scream of the kettle. 

"Poor Youji." The boy's face twisted into a sympathetic frown. 

"Youji's tough. He's had worse. He can handle it." Aya felt, rather than saw Omi's gaze, as it swept over him. 

"Aya-kun....this is...different. This time we don't know why it happened. We weren't there and..." 

"And he won't tell us." Aya sneered. "If he doesn't trust us enough to tell what happened -if he doesn't trust in his own team -then I don't care. It's his own goddamned fault. He should take some responsibility for his own actions -it could be us that suffer because of it. We don't know what's happening with the mission tonight..." 

"Aya-kun!" Omi gasped. 

His own reaction surprised him. He sounded angry, when he didn't care. He didn't care. Not about anything. Only Aya. 

The creak of wood. Both assassins whirled around to see a groggy soccer player tromping down the abused staircase. 

"Uhn, something wrong guys?" 

Aya was amazed that Ken's voice carried so well, even when still gravely with sleep. 

"Ken, not so loud! You'll wake up Youji!" 

Omi, the ever-considerate. 

"Youji? But didn't he leave already?"

The boy shook his head. "Nope! He's staying in Aya's room."

"....are you sure? I yelled awful loud. Maybe he's just really out of it then. Poor guy. I wonder why he won't...." 

Aya felt his body twitch. Omi chewed his lip. Ken looked on in dazed befuddlement, and let the sentence fade into silence. 

"Umm.....the kettle's nearly done. You're up early Ken, so you can have some tea if you'd like."

Omi, always trying to ease the tension. 

The chocolate-haired youth gave a sleep smile. "No thanks, I think I have some Gatorade left in the fridge."

Aya felt his eyeball twitch.

The younger half of Weiss looked at him as if he belonged in a B-movie. 

"Umm.....Aya...."

"I'm going upstairs." He stood abruptly and turned on his heel. The strong scent of freshly brewed coffee stopped him, however. After a moment's hesitation, he went to the kitchen and filled two mugs with the bitter liquid. With a sigh to himself, he started up the stairs again, thankful that the little time he had spent as a waiter kept him from sloshing the hot drink all over his hands. 

He frowned when he heard the mumblings of a coversation. One-sided. Youji wasn't talking to himself now, was he? 

The sound wasn't coming from his room. He looked down the hallway. The door to Youji's old room was closed. 

With a frown he opened the door to his own room, set the tray down, and scurried out again. Cautiously, he approached the closed door. 

Why Youji was probabally just making a date. It wasn't his business. _Why are you being so nosy, Aya? _

The walls were thin. He pressed ear to it, wincing as the rough stucco scraped his skin. But he was rewarded for this mild discomfort. He could hear every word. 

".......no. No, it's under control. Yes I saw him..........yeah. I know......"

Aya's mouth flattened. 

Youji was seeing who?

"right...................heh. I know. No, not exactly a great start, was it?......................Oh, don't I know it?"

He narrowed his eyes in distrust. 

".......Yeah, we're going out tonight...."

Tonight? But there was a mission tonight!

"...all of us."

Oh. All of....them? Aya's brow furrowed. 

_"......No. I don't have a clue. But who's fault is that?..........................Oh for............................... yes I know. Yes, you own my soul...................I'm not being sarcastic...........what? Tomorrow night?......but………. shit. Don't make me go back there again……I don't know -I...........I…….you wouldn't. Okay. Fine! I'll go....."_

"Aya!" Ken yelling at him from downstairs. Shit. 

Youji paused from the other side of the wall. 

"Aya, what time we leavin' tonight? Aya?"

He could already hear the heavy footsteps. Aya made for his apartment. Silently.

_Fuck. Who was Youji talking to? _

He stared at the coffee on the bedside table. 

"Aya?"

Ken was pounding on his door. From outside he heard the creak of a hinge. Soft footsteps. The pounding stopped. But the pounding in his heart was just beginning. 

"Good morning Youji!" Ken exclaimed.

"Ohayou gozaimasu." Youji's voice sounded muffled. 

"Yah' sleep well?"

"Sure, no thanks to you. What are you yelling after Aya for?" 

"Oh. Just wanted to know when we leave tonight. Do you know?"

"Yeah. Eight."

"Eight? Wow, that's early." 

"Augh, I know. But that's good. Cuz' maybe I'll have time to rest up tonight and look good for tomorrow."

"Oh? Got a date tomorrow Youji?"

"....you could say that."

"Nice. Hey, Omi's made breakfast. Come downstairs. It's been forever since...."

"That's real nice, but I'm not that hungry...."

"What? Skinny guy like you? Well that's okay. Aya made coffee for you come on down...."

"Huh?....Aya?"

The voices were swallowed beneath the stomping of the stairs. He retrieved his house slippers and followed the pair momentarily. His second visit to the kitchen that day. By the time he got there, already, the three of them were seated at the table. American style. Aya suppressed his sneer. He hated the Western style. Aya took his place, and looked suspiciously at the heaping plate in front of him, as well as the forks. His team gave him the usual greetings before delving back into conversation. 

His team. 

"So…..we couldn't save your armani. Sorry Youji-kun." This was Omi speaking. 

Man in question waved it off. Aya stared. That was _his _orange sweater. He looked down at himself. 

He was still in his pajamas. 

He looked back at Youji, who was straddling his chair. 

Those were his jeans too. He resisted the urge to fume. What right did that man have, going through _his _belongings?

"Eat up Aya-kun!" Omi smiled at him from across the table. 

He snorted, but swallowed a mouthful of the offensive stuff. 

Ken laughed at him, but turned his attention back to the discussion. "It was a nice one too. Damn, you must have paid a fortune for it. What the hell were you doing in a suit anyway?"

"Don't you know the ladies love a man in uniform? It was about as close as I could get. So. I've gotta' jet. My mission gear's still at my place, and you know how the subway is."

"I'll take you!" Ken volunteered. 

"Nope, Aya should! You've got a game to watch Ken-ken!" 

Aya blinked. Ken gaped.

"Huh? I do?"

"The game. You said you couldn't wait for it." 

"What game?"

Aya's eyes met with Omi's briefly. They locked. Those blue eyes flashed with a look that he had seen a hundred times. Omi was up to something. And he was going to have to go along with it. 

"Ach, I'm causing trouble." Youji stretched and let out a long yawn. "Better get going before yah' start fighting over me." He smiled briefly and brushed an oaken strand from his eyes. 

Aya felt his stomach tighten instinctively. 

"It's no trouble." He interjected smoothly. "It will be faster this way. We'll collect your things, and you'll come back here. I'm going to watch you go over your files again. I will not allow your carelessness to endanger us."

He was already prepared for an outburst. From the corner of his eye, he saw Omi's mouth quirk upwards. That was a good sign at the very least….

"Excuse me? Who says I haven't read my files three times already?" Youji's face burned pink at the cheeks. His verdant eyes flashed, both tempting and agitating Aya all at once. It took all this to make him finally remember…

Youji was really mauled. Mottled purple and yellow and green…..and still beautiful. He shuddered and met those eyes 

calmly. "When do you ever bother to read your files? Your carelessness will be the downfall of us all one day." He wasn't going on a lot here. He knew he sounded like an idiot. But it was all he could think of on the spot. 

"My carelessness?" Youji looked taken aback. "Who was the one spacing out last mission Aya? Fuck, it was me who saved your ass! You just stood there like some….some……zombie. Dead to the world! Who are you to preach to me about responsibility _Ay~a_?"

Aya pretended to stare through him. "Be ready in ten minutes. We're leaving."

Ken looked at him strangely. "Aya, what the hell? Youji hasn't…."

"Ten minutes." He repeated sharply, and retreated to the solitude of his room. 

He could hear Youji's snort of disgust, and Ken's baffled exclamations behind him. 

"What the hell? And I thought he was going to be nice to you today….maybe he should have drank some of that coffee….."

He slammed the door. 

Not surprisingly, there came a tentative knock not a minute later. 

"Come in Omi." 

The blond latched the door shut softly behind him. 

"I want you to go with him and look in his apartment."

Ah Omi, never the one to waste time with needless words. He stared into the youth's face. 

"Why?" Aya crossed his arms and feigned disinterest. "If you're so worried, why don't you take him home?"

Omi smiled darkly. The expression confused Aya. Omi never looked like that…

"What? On my scooter? You'll go Aya. You have to."

"I don't have to do anything."

"Well you already agreed to it. You'll look stupid if you back out. Besides, I know this is bugging you too. Why not just try to get to the bottom of it? What if Youji's involved in something that could mean danger to us? We've got to know."

It made sense. Perfect, and utter sense. 

There were days when he thought that Kritiker had misjudged when they had designated him to be leader. He looked at the floor. The wall. When had Omi started calling the shots? 

"So we're excluding Ken from all this then?" 

  
"Not if you find something." The child crossed his arms. 

"Very well."

They both jumped when they heard Youji's shrill voice hollering from the bottom of the stairs. 

"I'm ready your highness! Would you do the honour of accompanying me to your chariot?" 

It positively dripped sarcasm. 

"I'll be outside Aya."

They could hear the downstairs door slam shut. 

Omi smiled fleetingly. "I think he's impatient." 

"The man knows no patience." Aya turned to leave. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around. Omi frowned up at him. His face had softened again, back to the way it normally looked. Back to the way he was used to. 

Aya was strangely relieved. 

"Aren't you worried about him Aya?" Omi asked. "At all?"

Aya closed his eyes. 

"No."

He made a grab for his coat from the rack by the doorway. Omi swiped at it first, and held it out for him. 

Their eyes met again. 

"Liar."

"What?"

"Aya-kun….why do you say things you don't mean?" 

He shrugged the coat on, and stamped down the hall. _Why did he? _

Stairs. Boots. Keys. Out. 

The damp air made him want to sneeze. A slight breeze whistled in his ears. Youji leaned against his car, glowering. Silent. Furious. 

He opened the passenger door and held it open. 

The brunette gave him a scalding look. 

He let the door slam. 

He got in the driver's side, and fired up the ignition. 

Still silence. 

Well, Youji could keep his silence. But he was going to get to the bottom of this anyway…

".......no. No, it's under control. Yes I saw him..........yeah. I know......"

Idiot. 

".......Yeah, we're going out tonight...."

If Youji was giving the team away to anyone then he'd beat him black and blue. No matter that he was already purple. 

"Yes, you own my soul....."

But if someone was hurting Youji…….

"……Don't make me go back there again…"

They wouldn't live to tell. 

* * *

See? Wasn't there a hundred doors in this chapter? ^^ And about the bit with the slippers …you probably all know that it's tradition to walk around the house in slippers. Everyone in the family has a pair, and there's even a few for any guests who visit the house. The toilet room (not bathroom, because there bathroom IS a bathroom) has a separate pair. Heh. Good idea. Those Japanese…..so clever. 

So what did you think? 

You can always drop me a line at soulstrife@hotmail.com

I'd love to hear from you. Bye! 


	8. Distraction

Hah...you all thought that you had gotten rid of me, didn't you? =)   
  
Thank you to everyone who reviewed...the list gets longer and longer every time. You, my friends, are my inspiration.   
  
Special thank you's to Kurai and Amy, my editors -I don't know where I'd be without you. Kurai, you kept this story alive. Amy..you're the one who did CPR for it ^^. Thanks so much, both of you. And now, the product of a bored mind, I give you....the next chapter! Enjoy, everyone!   
  
Note: This chapter is in honour of the new legislation in Canada that allows same sex marriages...a happy day for all of us. Forever proud to be Canadian!!!!!!  
  
Youji scowled into the rear view mirror.   
  
There wasn't anyone behind them. If he suddenly grabbed the steering wheel, swerved off the road and plowed straight into Tokyo's financial district, would anyone else get hurt?   
  
He fingered the swollen edge along his jaw and sighed. With his luck, he'd make it out alive. Yesterday hadn't been the best of days, and today wasn't turning out to be an award winner either.   
  
Aya. That jerk. He folded his arms across his chest, wrinkling his nose is disgust when he realized exactly whose clothes he was wearing.   
  
They were too big for him. And way too orange.   
  
In a way, he was glad he had these small, insignificant things to gripe about. Somehow, it made everything bearable.   
  
He chewed his lip as he watched the familiar scenery inch by. Grey, grey, grey, grey.   
  
Stupid Aya, fucking his day up. But really, Aya was the least of it. He couldn't hate Aya, not even if he'd tried.   
  
This was all Kritiker's fault.   
  
Awnings, markets, fruit stands and tourists. Flashes of colour. Just vague. Swallowed again quickly by the blur of movement. Dismal. The healthy hum of the Porsche. The smooth cold leather against the back of his neck. He shuddered. His back ached -every time he leaned against the seat it throbbed, he could just imagine the skin along his spine, tinted green and purple. Why the hell hadn't he taken the painkillers Omi had offered him....?  
  
The brakes slammed hard and his head crashed into the headrest, bashing against the lump there. He gave a pained yelp.   
  
The keys turned in the ignition. The motor stopped purring.   
  
He was back.   
  
He looked up at the building.  
  
It was strange for an apartment. In place of the normal stone-coloured walls, these walls were white. Shining white. Smooth. He loved the way that the building rose against the sky. Immense. And not dwarfing or imposing but….welcoming.   
  
In the city's dull unchanging background, it challenged all and seemed to say 'the world is tough, there is rest for the weary here.' Bright cheerful caretakers. On every floor. Nice little kids, never too noisy. No pets. No screaming punk couples.   
  
Didn't they know they lived with a killer?   
  
"Youji. Move."   
  
He quickly unbuckled and made his escape. It was short-lived however, as Aya followed him up to the front door.  
  
His hands were tingling. He was freezing even in the godawful sweater. The air was bitter as all hell today.   
  
"Yah' don't hafta' watch me read y'know." Youji tried to explain one last time. " I'm a responsible adult. It's already done!"   
  
The characteristic blank stare was his only response.   
  
With a huff he fished the keys out of his, or rather, Aya's jean pockets. Thank God that Omi had thought to rescue him from his ruined Armani.   
  
Damn, but the kid was a one-man show.   
  
The key turned in the lock, and the door clicked. He held it open.   
  
"Please, you first." Sarcasm was kept at a minimum.   
  
The elevator ride was a long one. It always was when you lived on the 20th floor. But still, it was with pleasure that he threw back the doors to his apartment. The scent of potted flowers, aromatic oils and cigarettes washed over him, soothing his jangled nerves. The plain white-washed walls and simple blue trim spoke to him. He sighed in contentment.   
  
Aya stepped in behind him and closed the door reluctantly.   
  
"It smells in here," Aya offered as he shed his trench to reveal –pyjamas?   
  
Youji decided not to touch that one on account of his medical condition. But he did allow himself to roll his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I know. Like a bar. But you're the one who decided to play mom today so you're just gonna hafta…."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
Huh? It wasn't? He must have blinked because Aya elaborated.  
  
"….it smells…….good."  
  
He was speechless for a good moment. "It does?" he found himself asking at last.   
  
Aya studied him for a minute, and then sniffed the air, seemingly confused himself.   
  
There was a pregnant pause. Aya stared at the floor. Youji looked out the window.  
  
"I'm gonna go change," Youji said at last. "You want me to throw your stuff in the laundry?"   
  
Aya looked down at himself, only just seeming to make the connection. He shrugged elegantly.   
  
"All right then, I'll take 'em down in a sec. Make yourself at home. I think there's a beer or two left in the fridge if you're thirsty."   
  
Youji retreated to his room, and stripped out of Aya's clothes quickly. He looked into the closet. Nothing there but clubbing and mission gear –the rest of his clothes were spread out around his floor. He sighed.   
  
Things were really going to hell.   
  
He emerged minutes later in torn and faded jeans and a nondescript grey sweater. The one that was about two sizes too large for him and had a bad habit of slipping from his shoulder.   
  
Aya looked up from the newspaper he was reading -yesterday's- and arched an eyebrow. "The files?"  
  
"Yeah in a minute, gotta do the laundry first."   
  
"Youji."  
  
"Yah?"  
  
"Read. Now."   
  
The Balinese cringed at that tone of voice. "All right Aya. But doncha' go blamin' me when you find your sweater isn't clean."   
  
"Youji..." the statement held a tone of warning.   
  
His shoulders sagged in defeat. With a sigh, Youji retrieved the folders from the next room. "You know Aya, we need to work on your people skills."   
  
The Abyssinian glared. "Sit down Youji. Here. Next to me, where I can watch you."  
  
"Yes, mother," The brunette said irritably. This was stupid. Just plain stupid. He'd been through the damn thing a few times already. It was simple. Same as the next one. So naturally, he hunkered down on the couch with the third mission folder. Aya wouldn't know the difference. He wasn't even allowed to read over Youji's shoulder this time.   
  
"Turn on the light Youji, you're going to get eyestrain."  
  
The Balinese settled back to read and couldn't help but smile.  
  
He had missed this.   
  
----------------------  
  
They had sat like that for God knew how long. Youji going over his files and Aya next to him, reading the newspaper. Or rather, trying to. At the beginning it had been easy, but as the hours wore on, and the morning gave way to the afternoon, the redhead found his concentration quickly disappearing. And Youji wasn't helping.   
  
To his credit, the brunette hadn't said a word. Just kept on reading for hours and hours. And Aya couldn't keep his eyes off him. The slim build, that soft chestnut hair that just brushed against his shoulders -those glittering emerald eyes, narrowed in focus -how could anyone, but anyone, bring themselves to look away? He even found himself smiling at the small habitual nods that Youji would give occasionally, signifying he understood the content of the papers. The Balinese was driving him insane -and for once, was doing nothing at all to provoke it.   
  
  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and folded the newspaper in half. He was itching for something to do or say -but he was so out of practice.   
  
  
  
"You've been at it a long time. Take a break." He winced when the words sounded more clipped than he had meant them to. Even so, his companion smiled tiredly up at him.   
  
  
  
"Heh. Thanks, Aya." He rubbed at his eyes. "Can I get you anything?"   
  
  
  
"No. No thank you." Whether the redhead was being polite or was distrustful of his culinary prowess, Youji was not sure.   
  
  
  
"Not even tea? I've got green."  
  
  
  
How did Youji know that he liked...  
  
  
  
"All right." He conceded.  
  
  
  
"Heh. Thought that might rope you in." Youji stood and ambled off to the kitchen, only to return minutes later with two mugs in hand. "Kept the water hot," He said with another sunny smile and placed the cup in front of the redhead. When he sat down again, there was less space between them then there had been before. Aya slung his arm around the back of the couch.   
  
  
  
"Nice place," He commented quietly.   
  
  
  
"Thanks. It is, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
Aya assumed that to be a rhetorical question. He brought his mug to his lips and sipped. Silence descended upon the room once more. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, either. Aya lowered his cup, and was surprised to see Youji slowly pitching to the side, eyelids at half-mast and fluttering.   
  
  
  
"Youji," he said softly "you need to sleep."   
  
  
  
"Mmm." The brunette nodded his head. "Nah."   
  
  
  
Guilt plagued him. Maybe Youji really had read all his files. Maybe he should have been using the time for sleep. He could have used it. The Balinese was badly injured...violet eyes flicked to a slender set of shoulders. The grey sweater was slipping down one, revealing mottled purple skin.   
  
Gods.  
  
Youji was distracting him. He was supposed to be getting information. Trying to figure out exactly what had happened the other night. But he couldn't do it. Just couldn't do it. He felt so strangely warm.   
  
  
  
Trrrrrrrrring! Trrrrrrrring!   
  
  
  
Youji jumped in surprise. Aya's arm slipped a little ways, and his fingers brushed against the man's shoulders. The redhead blinked at the contact.   
  
  
  
"Damn phone." Youji muttered and settled back into a slouch.   
  
  
  
"Indeed." Aya concurred.   
  
  
  
"Heh. So, what's new, Aya?" Youji struggled against a yawn.  
  
  
  
"What's new?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah. You know...what you been up to?"   
  
  
  
"Nothing."   
  
Trrrrrrrrrring! Trrrrrrrring!   
  
  
  
The brunette laughed sleepily and looked into his eyes. "Really? Nothing?"  
  
  
  
"Really. Nothing." He was increasingly aware of the way that the space between their faces seemed to be shrinking. He swallowed.   
  
  
  
"That's a pity. Guy like you oughta get more dates you know..." He could feel breath upon his cheek as the words were spoken. He looked down at Youji, and their eyes met. Those orbs were dazed and confused and...something else. Something.....  
  
  
  
What emotions reflected in his eyes?  
  
  
  
"If I were interested..." he whispered "....I know where I'd look." He leaned closer, and their noses brushed. He shivered.Their lips were just fraction of an inch apart. Aya could nearly feel the silky softness of Youji's lips on his own.   
  
  
  
"Aya - I...."  
  
  
  
"Youji...."  
  
  
  
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!  
  
Startled, both men jumped back.   
  
  
  
"Hey guys, it's Omi. Guess you're on the way back already, which is all right. That's all I really called to ask you anyway. See you!"   
  
  
  
Aya was already on his feet, facing away from Youji to hide his blush. "It's time. Let's go Youji." He made his way to the door and shrugged his coat on.   
  
  
  
"Aya....? " the man was right behind him.   
  
  
  
"Let's go, Youji."   
  
  
  
He left the apartment without even waiting for Youji to gather his things.   
  
  
  
Ayan Ayan Aya~n....always running from the things that scare you...  
  
  
  
God.  
  
  
  
Why was he so stupid? 


End file.
